We had planned for almost a year. Our beautiful daughter had always wanted an outdoor wedding. So the first thing we did once they had narrowed the window for the wedding date, was check the Farmers Almanac to see when it had rained the last time on that date. We decided on April 9th because it hadn't rained on that day in 26 years. The odds were in our favor!
A week before the wedding, everything was in place. We'd picked a beautiful county club with a patio for the wedding and a ballroom for the reception. Behind the carpet of green stood the stark mountains so typical of those found in the Arizona desert. We just knew that it would be a beautiful sunny day April 9th. When my daughter called to say that rain was predicted for the following Saturday, I wasn't too worried. When you live in the desert, you hear a lot of weather reports that predict rain, most of which end up being inaccurate. I told her not to worry.
As the day got closer the percentage for the chance of showers went up; but I just couldn't believe that it would actually rain. However, when Friday night arrived and we gathered for the Rehearsal, it was down right cold. I began to wonder if rain was reality for Wedding Day. I realized that we had a choice, we could either be upset and ruin the day, or we could be happy have fun and celebrate. We chose the latter.
It didn't rain during the ceremony; but it did before and after. Chairs were set up on the patio under the awning. Almost 200 people gathered, looking out at the lush green. The clouds were visibly moving, and the moutains were touched with grey haze. The seats closest to the heaters were the most popular. When the bride turned the corner to head up the aisle, the crowd that had gathered audibly gasp. She was so beautiful; and her dad so proud. As we listened and watched, a flock of birds flew back and forth across one corner of the golf course. At dusk, the fountain behind the couple lit up. And then the ceremony was over.
Ten minutes into the reception, the rain and cold was forgotten. It was time to eat and dance.
Rain. After 26 years of no rain. There had to be a lesson in this. After much pondering, I've come to this conclusion: It was a strong reminder from God of a few things.
First of all, He's in control - not the weathermen, not me. not the Farmers' Almanac, not even history. That's a good thing. He knows some much more than we do what is in our best interest, even when it makes no sense to us.
Secondly, in life we have a choice. When the skies are cloudy and it "rains on our parade," we can either be happy with what we have or be upset about circumstances beyond our control. Especially in marriage, that is a HUGE lesson if learned early can mean a better life. I pray that how Will and Rach started - smiling inspite of the rain - will be how they spend their years together. Because they are human, there will be difficult times. However, I trust that God will bring to mind their wedding day and how wonderful it was, rain and all.
On the way to the wedding, a friend of mine saw the brightest rainbow she had ever seen. It was so bright, she made her husband pull over so she could take a picture of it. God sent the rainbow as His message of hope to His people many years ago. There it was again for a young couple starting their life together.
I thanked one of the servers for helping us make the wedding celebration all it could be. She said, "So many families get upset and angry when it rains. But you all didn't, you had a great time and were happy. I think that's great."
"Hey," I responded, "It's Wedding Day, what's a little rain." I was so grateful for her words. We chose to be a blessing and were blessed. With the rain came a lifelong reminder that while God is in control, He lets us choose whether we follow in His character or get sidetracked with anger and negativity.
Sunshine Snarky gets all wet
Napa is a great place to de-stress!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Education Re-Form: Pig vs. chicken
I've never been a real breakfast person. Even though I used to be a "morning person," I just couldn't get into the whole breakfast thing. Having said that, I've always absolutely loved bacon. I'm acutely aware of the sacrifice that the pig makes in this case. It doesn't mean I don't like eggs or that the chicken isn't doing the best she can, it just means that the pig makes the ultimate sacrifice, and I am the benefactor.
When I started a charter school 13 years ago, I did it with a group of people who were committed to offering a good choice to families. When I left the district, I became the pig on the breakfast plate of school reform. I left security to live what I had professed. While my friends who stayed in the district did their best to change an old rusty system that in many ways had forgotten why it exists -for kids; I began an adventure with the commitment that all decisions would be made with the consideration of how they affected kids.
So, what does a good choice look like? It can look as different as all the differences that we find in each student. Whatever it looks like, it looks especially good to parents who simply want the opportunity for their students to receive a high quality education. It doesn't matter the color or social economic status of parents, there are many who care deeply about the educational opportunities afforded they kids.
I knew right away that I had a lot to learn. That meant attending trainings with other educators. I discovered that district educators considered charter educators as "enemies of the state." I had to develop a thick skin and an eye only for the target - to provide the opportunity for high quality education for ALL kids. Soon after we opened our doors, I flew to San Diego to attend an ASCD training on curriculum by design. I sat at a table with 10 other educators in a packed room. Everyone was pleasant and talkative. Our first assignment was to go around the table and introduce ourselves. I was the last person at the table to do introductions. When I introduced myself and explained that I was with a charter school, eight of the nine other people at the table picked up their things and moved to a different table. The remaining lady said, "It's ok. I'll stay here with you." I wanted to cry and run out of the room; but I reminded myself that I had paid a lot of money for the workshop, so I stayed.
When I started a charter school 13 years ago, I did it with a group of people who were committed to offering a good choice to families. When I left the district, I became the pig on the breakfast plate of school reform. I left security to live what I had professed. While my friends who stayed in the district did their best to change an old rusty system that in many ways had forgotten why it exists -for kids; I began an adventure with the commitment that all decisions would be made with the consideration of how they affected kids.
So, what does a good choice look like? It can look as different as all the differences that we find in each student. Whatever it looks like, it looks especially good to parents who simply want the opportunity for their students to receive a high quality education. It doesn't matter the color or social economic status of parents, there are many who care deeply about the educational opportunities afforded they kids.
I knew right away that I had a lot to learn. That meant attending trainings with other educators. I discovered that district educators considered charter educators as "enemies of the state." I had to develop a thick skin and an eye only for the target - to provide the opportunity for high quality education for ALL kids. Soon after we opened our doors, I flew to San Diego to attend an ASCD training on curriculum by design. I sat at a table with 10 other educators in a packed room. Everyone was pleasant and talkative. Our first assignment was to go around the table and introduce ourselves. I was the last person at the table to do introductions. When I introduced myself and explained that I was with a charter school, eight of the nine other people at the table picked up their things and moved to a different table. The remaining lady said, "It's ok. I'll stay here with you." I wanted to cry and run out of the room; but I reminded myself that I had paid a lot of money for the workshop, so I stayed.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Education Reform - Really?
Why do people think education reform exists? Many people who watched Waiting for Superman were shocked, appalled at what is happening in some schools. The anti-charter folks called it propaganda. The pro-charter folks loved it. However, if they were honest with themselves, they could say there are good charter schools and bad charter schools, just like there are good district schools and bad district schools or good private schools and bad private schools and definitely good home schooling and bad home schooling.
So why do people think education reform exists? I believe it exists for the sake of students, who are in fact children.
My journey in education has been more like Lombard Street than a straight trajectory. I entered the education industry in the area of drop out prevention. (If you don't think it's an industry, you need to start there with your processing.) After starting my first school, I went back to school myself. I realized I needed more "book learnin'." I've done that a few times in the 13 years since.
Competition has made us all - charter, district private - do our jobs better. No longer can an administrator say to a student, "if you don't like how we do things, too bad." (I heard it with my own two ears.) The student and parents can go elsewhere. When done right, the charter delivery system can also hold students and parents more accountable. The wonderful thing about school choice is choice. If parents and students don't think a school is a good fit or don't like the level of accountability, they can go to a different school.
So how do we keep our direction in education reform going the right way? By always asking, what is in the best interest of kids.
Next blog: What happens when you're the pig on the breakfast plate of school reform? Some amazing encounters I have over the years.
So why do people think education reform exists? I believe it exists for the sake of students, who are in fact children.
My journey in education has been more like Lombard Street than a straight trajectory. I entered the education industry in the area of drop out prevention. (If you don't think it's an industry, you need to start there with your processing.) After starting my first school, I went back to school myself. I realized I needed more "book learnin'." I've done that a few times in the 13 years since.
Competition has made us all - charter, district private - do our jobs better. No longer can an administrator say to a student, "if you don't like how we do things, too bad." (I heard it with my own two ears.) The student and parents can go elsewhere. When done right, the charter delivery system can also hold students and parents more accountable. The wonderful thing about school choice is choice. If parents and students don't think a school is a good fit or don't like the level of accountability, they can go to a different school.
So how do we keep our direction in education reform going the right way? By always asking, what is in the best interest of kids.
Next blog: What happens when you're the pig on the breakfast plate of school reform? Some amazing encounters I have over the years.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
What does it mean to be part of the sandwich generation, really? Today would be an example.
My phone startled me out of a sleep. Well, actually I had been awake an hour or so earlier when Chuck got up. That was long before the sun made it over the mountains to the east. I tried to sound alert and awake when I answered; but chances are I didn't fool anyone. I can't remember what crisis it was about, there have been too many others in the past 18 hours since then. Fortunately Chuck had picked up the drycleaning the night before so I had plenty to choose from and could throw on a pair of pants, shirt and jacket after a quick shower.
My mother sat at the kitchen island in her light green robe, reading the newspaper. I took the time to explain to her that Chuck's mom would be coming back to stay tonight. I could tell before I got around the corner that she had made coffee. I thought how nice is was as I filled my cup and reached for the cream. "Every form of refuge has it's price," I say to myself. She seems to think it's important to carry my coffee for me as I go to the car. So every morning we have this same ritual: she carries the coffee and hands it to me when I get in the car. It used to bug me; but I realized in some strange way it made her feel good, so why should it bug me. It's a little weird on the days that I am not carrying anything, though.
Today I have to head north to one of my schools. Instead of driving the Honda as usual, I'm going to take the Sequoia because I'm bringing back Manzanita bushes for Rachel's wedding. It's a good thing I don't have to drive the Honda because it's still full of baskets for the wedding and other wedding crap. Another sign that I am in the middle of the sandwich.
I wonder what part of the middle of the sandwich I am. Sometimes I'm probably the lettuce and tomato - fresh and there to make things more palatible. Other times I think I'm probably the mustard - there to spice things up. Or maybe the cheese or the meat or whatever else is the part of the sandwich that gives a person energy. Other times I'm smelly tunafish that's been left out too long. Hey, I'm human.
So tonight as I try to wind down, I now have two mothers in the house again, I'm getting ready for a daughter's wedding and, oh, did I mention that over 70 non-family members rely on me to make sure they are paid and things go smoothly. Now I'm sounding snarky.
What about the sunshine? When I smelled the coffee this morning, I glanced out the window, and there were my pots of flowers, smiling back. What a way to start the day.
My phone startled me out of a sleep. Well, actually I had been awake an hour or so earlier when Chuck got up. That was long before the sun made it over the mountains to the east. I tried to sound alert and awake when I answered; but chances are I didn't fool anyone. I can't remember what crisis it was about, there have been too many others in the past 18 hours since then. Fortunately Chuck had picked up the drycleaning the night before so I had plenty to choose from and could throw on a pair of pants, shirt and jacket after a quick shower.
My mother sat at the kitchen island in her light green robe, reading the newspaper. I took the time to explain to her that Chuck's mom would be coming back to stay tonight. I could tell before I got around the corner that she had made coffee. I thought how nice is was as I filled my cup and reached for the cream. "Every form of refuge has it's price," I say to myself. She seems to think it's important to carry my coffee for me as I go to the car. So every morning we have this same ritual: she carries the coffee and hands it to me when I get in the car. It used to bug me; but I realized in some strange way it made her feel good, so why should it bug me. It's a little weird on the days that I am not carrying anything, though.
Today I have to head north to one of my schools. Instead of driving the Honda as usual, I'm going to take the Sequoia because I'm bringing back Manzanita bushes for Rachel's wedding. It's a good thing I don't have to drive the Honda because it's still full of baskets for the wedding and other wedding crap. Another sign that I am in the middle of the sandwich.
I wonder what part of the middle of the sandwich I am. Sometimes I'm probably the lettuce and tomato - fresh and there to make things more palatible. Other times I think I'm probably the mustard - there to spice things up. Or maybe the cheese or the meat or whatever else is the part of the sandwich that gives a person energy. Other times I'm smelly tunafish that's been left out too long. Hey, I'm human.
So tonight as I try to wind down, I now have two mothers in the house again, I'm getting ready for a daughter's wedding and, oh, did I mention that over 70 non-family members rely on me to make sure they are paid and things go smoothly. Now I'm sounding snarky.
What about the sunshine? When I smelled the coffee this morning, I glanced out the window, and there were my pots of flowers, smiling back. What a way to start the day.
Friday, March 4, 2011
When I think back over my life, I think God knelt and kissed me on my forehead when I was very young - this to say my life has been touched by Him for as long as I can remember. It's not that things have always been great or that I've always been acutely aware of His presence. It's more to say that to separate me from Him would be like trying to separate two colors of sand being simultaneously poured into a glass container - virtually impossible. And who I am because of who He is in me is unrecognizable compared to who I would be without Him. It's not to say that I am perfect or a great rep for him; but I know I am different.
While I'm not an evangelist, in fact I've always thought that actions speak louder than words, my mom once said that I talked so much about Jesus to my third grade teacher that she started going back to church, she just felt compelled to do so.
When I was about 10 or 12, we attended the Clairmont Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, GA. It's one of those big old traditional churches: brick walls, white steeple, gold and grey inside with traditional woodwork. I told the pastor that I wanted to speak in church, and he let me. I don't remember what I talked about, but I remember it felt right to be up there speaking to the large congregation. I could almost see my friends in the balcony from where I stood behind the pulpit. I could tell that they were shocked to see me up there; but I didn't feel shocked.
When I was 15, I went with a group of kids who were a few years older than me to do Vacation Bible School in Virginia's coal country.
While I'm not an evangelist, in fact I've always thought that actions speak louder than words, my mom once said that I talked so much about Jesus to my third grade teacher that she started going back to church, she just felt compelled to do so.
When I was about 10 or 12, we attended the Clairmont Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, GA. It's one of those big old traditional churches: brick walls, white steeple, gold and grey inside with traditional woodwork. I told the pastor that I wanted to speak in church, and he let me. I don't remember what I talked about, but I remember it felt right to be up there speaking to the large congregation. I could almost see my friends in the balcony from where I stood behind the pulpit. I could tell that they were shocked to see me up there; but I didn't feel shocked.
When I was 15, I went with a group of kids who were a few years older than me to do Vacation Bible School in Virginia's coal country.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Do the Brits Still Carry A Grudge
A man with a loud voice and British accent entered my office today. He was upset about the Vietnamese flag we are flying in front of our international school. I gave him the long story about how we thought we were doing a great thing by ordering the 13 different flags from the 13 different countries representing the countries of the students attending our school. I didn't bother elaborating about how great it makes me feel when I pull into the parking lot and see them all waving inthe wind. I didn't mention how proud I was of the American Flag in the center atop a slight taller pole. No, didn't want to rub it in his face. I simply - or as simply as possible - explained how we ordered them off a flag site on the internet. Well, how was I supposed to know that the British flag was one he didn't llke either???
I was well aware of the controversy around the Vietnamese Flag. Are you? It seems that the Vietnamese who escaped from South Vietnam don't honor the current Vietnamese Flag. I read about it when we ordered the flags, so we ordered BOTH flags. When our student arrived, we asked him which flag he would like us to raise on the pole. Of course, he picked the current flag. At his age, he wouldn't know any other flag. That was fine for about six months. I was called to the parking lot by a concerned employee to address a large group of angry Vietnamese Americans who were demanding that I take down the Vietnamese flag, or they would be calling the press and staging demonstrations in front of the school. No problem, I said.
Why did I cave so fast, you are wondering? I have a motto: "Any day that I'm not First on Fox is a good day, indeed." I speak from experience.
Back to the Brit.....So he didn't seemed to impressed with my international flag site explanation or not being first on Fox. He said he is a former economics professor and he is appalled that I wouldn't know my history or flags.
"What?" I said, now with a raised eyebrow.
"You are flying the wrong English flag." He spouted.
"Well, our English student doesn't seem to have a problem with it," I retorted.
"It's because he's English," the arrogant so called Economics professor said.
"Furthermore, you've forgotten that you lost the Vietnam War. ....stupid......"
I don't remember exactly what he said after that. I remember saying something about having a few Masters Degrees, living through the Vietnam War and he could go back to Britian if he didn't like it here. I finished with, "Thank you for stopping and have a nice day. Oh. and if you want me to fly a different flag, you are welcome to buy it."
Do people carry grudges for over 200 years? I can't imagine how tired they must be. That was the Snarky part of my day. There was other snarkiness, but one incident described is enough for you, I'm sure.
Sunshine? Still waiting for that. I think it will happen when I arrive home, take off these uncomfortable clothes and exchange them for my comfy fleece pants from The Rack and my flannel jacket and bend down to pet my ever faithful Lab, who is waiting patiently for my attention. I don't think I can say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, buy the wrong flag, over work him or do anything else that will reduce his adoration of me. Now that's a sunny moment.
Sunshine Snarky over and out.
I was well aware of the controversy around the Vietnamese Flag. Are you? It seems that the Vietnamese who escaped from South Vietnam don't honor the current Vietnamese Flag. I read about it when we ordered the flags, so we ordered BOTH flags. When our student arrived, we asked him which flag he would like us to raise on the pole. Of course, he picked the current flag. At his age, he wouldn't know any other flag. That was fine for about six months. I was called to the parking lot by a concerned employee to address a large group of angry Vietnamese Americans who were demanding that I take down the Vietnamese flag, or they would be calling the press and staging demonstrations in front of the school. No problem, I said.
Why did I cave so fast, you are wondering? I have a motto: "Any day that I'm not First on Fox is a good day, indeed." I speak from experience.
Back to the Brit.....So he didn't seemed to impressed with my international flag site explanation or not being first on Fox. He said he is a former economics professor and he is appalled that I wouldn't know my history or flags.
"What?" I said, now with a raised eyebrow.
"You are flying the wrong English flag." He spouted.
"Well, our English student doesn't seem to have a problem with it," I retorted.
"It's because he's English," the arrogant so called Economics professor said.
"Furthermore, you've forgotten that you lost the Vietnam War. ....stupid......"
I don't remember exactly what he said after that. I remember saying something about having a few Masters Degrees, living through the Vietnam War and he could go back to Britian if he didn't like it here. I finished with, "Thank you for stopping and have a nice day. Oh. and if you want me to fly a different flag, you are welcome to buy it."
Do people carry grudges for over 200 years? I can't imagine how tired they must be. That was the Snarky part of my day. There was other snarkiness, but one incident described is enough for you, I'm sure.
Sunshine? Still waiting for that. I think it will happen when I arrive home, take off these uncomfortable clothes and exchange them for my comfy fleece pants from The Rack and my flannel jacket and bend down to pet my ever faithful Lab, who is waiting patiently for my attention. I don't think I can say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, buy the wrong flag, over work him or do anything else that will reduce his adoration of me. Now that's a sunny moment.
Sunshine Snarky over and out.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
In the beginning...
Dear Friends:
Today is the first day of the rest of my life - I am beginning to blog! Not that anyone will notice for awhile, but eventually some will find the similarities in their lives and check in to see just what's happening in my not so average, average life.
Why Sunshine Snarky? Pretty much an oxymoron, isn't it? Paradoxical at best. It reflects the complexity of a woman in her 50s who is passionately committed to leaving her mark on the world by having a positive impact on the lives of people, particularly young people. It's a reflection of her life, which is proof that truth is stranger than fiction. It's the perfect statement of a young girl trapped in an aging body. It's a saluatation that a person dear to me says so much I had a name tag made that says "Sunshine," and at work we take turns wearing it.
This is a glimpse into the life and times of me, who quite simply is desparately trying to live her life saying "what would Jesus do?" Not in the flippant way that people have adopted and added to things like plastic wristbands, but in a way that is all consuming, pressing me on toward the prize.
For now,
Sunshine Snarky
Today is the first day of the rest of my life - I am beginning to blog! Not that anyone will notice for awhile, but eventually some will find the similarities in their lives and check in to see just what's happening in my not so average, average life.
Why Sunshine Snarky? Pretty much an oxymoron, isn't it? Paradoxical at best. It reflects the complexity of a woman in her 50s who is passionately committed to leaving her mark on the world by having a positive impact on the lives of people, particularly young people. It's a reflection of her life, which is proof that truth is stranger than fiction. It's the perfect statement of a young girl trapped in an aging body. It's a saluatation that a person dear to me says so much I had a name tag made that says "Sunshine," and at work we take turns wearing it.
This is a glimpse into the life and times of me, who quite simply is desparately trying to live her life saying "what would Jesus do?" Not in the flippant way that people have adopted and added to things like plastic wristbands, but in a way that is all consuming, pressing me on toward the prize.
For now,
Sunshine Snarky
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